


2014

by maydei



Series: Nine!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Detroit, Future Fic, Future pairings, Gen, M/M, Meta, Present Tense, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester, Season 9 speculation, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydei/pseuds/maydei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2014

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly wild speculation that turned into a fic. Some implied Samifer and Midam, but easily ignored; may become more prevalent if this is continued.

Kevin discovers that the Gates of Hell can only be shut from inside. Tearfully, Sam and Dean trade their last goodbyes, because they know this is it. God’s left the building a long time ago, and Sam’s not coming back from this one.

Sam lifts his head high and walks through the Devil’s Gate, turning around to see Dean one last time. As the doors are closing, his eyes flash yellow.

A great roar comes from the demons inside, but not one of rage—one of victory. Crowley appears at Sam’s side just in time to catch the stricken expression on Dean’s face through the gap in the doors.

“All hail the Boy King,” he says.

Dean lunges, trying to pull Sam out, but it’s too late; the doors slam shut and lock. Dean falls to his knees, clawing at the Gate that is now only a gate.

“It is done,” says a voice from behind him—Dean turns to see an unfamiliar woman in a business suit, Cas standing silently at her side. Cas looks at Dean, but there’s not even a flash of recognition. Dean knows that this must be Naomi, the one Cas had managed to warn him about before he’d disappeared months ago.

“You bitch—!” Dean snarls, and Naomi looks at Cas; Dean suddenly finds himself with a hand around his throat, Cas’ blank eyes staring into his.

“It always had to end this way,” Naomi says. “From the moment Azazel fed Sam that blood, it would always end this way. Sam hasn’t been human; not for a long time; if the demons were meant to be locked away, Sam had to be, too. You must understand this, Dean.”

“My brother—!” Dean chokes.

“Release him,” Naomi says dispassionately, and Castiel obeys, no longer even able to be called Cas. Cas is dead. Sam is dead. There’s only Naomi and her pet, Castiel.

“I will hunt you,” Dean wheezes. “I will hunt you down and kill you. If it’s the last thing I ever do—”

“Why?” Naomi asks, stone-faced. “Because you don’t like the truth? Sam was a danger to the people of Earth, the people you spent your life trying to protect. Would you condemn them all for your brother?”

“Yes,” Dean swears, and it’s the truth. It always has been and always will be.

“Then perhaps you are less human than Sam,” Naomi says. “Come, Castiel; we’re leaving.”

They disappear, and Dean is left alone.

Dean wanders, returns to the house that feels empty without its other occupant; the Impala is parked and covered, retired, for Dean can’t stand the sight of the empty shotgun seat.

He locks himself away and he reads, desperate to find some way to save Sam, but he doesn’t.

One year later, when the world tears open and the city of Detroit falls into the Earth, Dean can’t even bring himself to be upset when he sees the yellow-eyed man caught for a split-second on the viral news footage.

If Sam is alive, Dean will save him.

He’ll save Sam, or he’ll die trying.

 

* * *

 

Dean gets to (what’s left of) Detroit fourteen hours later, the Impala wheezing out her protests. She’s out of shape, so this was a tough drive; Dean strokes the dashboard as he apologizes, grabs his handgun from its spot on the bench beside him, and goes to find Sam.

If he stops to rub his hands over his face in the hopes that this will not turn into his nightmares of 2014, well, it’s justified—because it _is_ 2014, this _is_ Detroit (what’s left of it), and Sam _is_ some sort of nightmare child. The sense of deja-vu is sickening.

Dean can only pray that, with Sam in charge, Lucifer won’t have popped the box and is still rotting somewhere in time-out. He prays, but when he sees the imprints of angel wings burned into the pulverized roads, he doesn’t bother saying _amen_.

The streets are empty; too empty, considering that there should be a demon swarm leaking from this, the heart of the Hellmouth. But all is silent, and it makes Dean uneasy.

Silence never ends well for him.

“ _Dean,_ ” breathes a reverent voice, and he spins just in time to find himself with an armful of Sasquatch; instinct makes him drop his gun, and luck makes the bullet that fires off not hit him in the foot.

“Sam?” Dean asks, and will forever deny the waver in his voice.

“It’s me, Dean,” his little brother says, his overeager, puppyish grip loosening so he can look Dean in the face.

His eyes are yellow.

Dean regrets nothing when his fist connects with Sam’s jaw.

  
”You bastard,” Dean hisses, sinking into a fighting stance and snatching up his gun, leveling it on Sam—just in time for Sam to look up at him from where he’d stumbled, a sprawl of long limbs in a clumsy array, and look at him with the most hurt expression Dean had seen in a long time.

“Dee?” Sam asks, tenderly touching his reddened jaw with careful fingertips.

“Don’t you dare,” he snaps in return. “You’re not him; you won’t fool me. Don’t you dare.”

“Dean, it’s me,” the yellow-eyed Sam says.

“Hands in the air.” Dean makes a gesture that he hopes is threatening with his gun. “Now. No funny business.”

“Dean, I swear, I can explain—”

“What did you do to Sam?” Dean’s jaw is set as he looks at the Sam-alike; or, rather, whatever is holed up inside his baby brother. “Huh? Who are you? Another demon, huh? Lucifer?”

“Dean—no!” Sam exclaims, looking aghast. “If you would just _listen_ —”

“ _Stop acting like Sam!_ ” Dean roars. “Just stop it!”

“I _am_ Sam!” Sam snaps. “I am Sam, Sam I am—okay? You read that book to me every night when I was a kid. When you were twelve, you rebuilt the Impala from the rims up because Dad bet you couldn’t, and the wager was that, if you could, she’d be yours when you got your license. Your first real girlfriend was named Lindsay, back when we went to Woodward; you were fifteen. Okay? I am Sam, I _swear_.”

Dean grits his teeth, but his resolve wavers—would a demon know all that? Could they? “…talk. Quickly.”

“Okay,” Sam says in relief. “Okay, just. I told you I was gonna get out alive, Dean—and I did, because I went _in_ alive. Hell isn’t meant for the living, it’s meant for the dead. Turns out the only way to reopen the Gates was some ancient Enochian blood ritual—obviously, they’re a little short-stocked in Hell; not too often they get any live guests.”

“And how’d you figure that one out?” Dean demands.

“Um.” Here, Sam looks guilty. “I might have cracked the Cage— _but!_ ” Sam protests, when Dean’s expression turns murderous. “But, listen! I could only see it when I was on the outside looking in—no one ever tortured me in the Cage; that’s what the Cage _does_. It makes you torture yourself, but the human brain isn’t meant to process that kind of self-inflicted pain, so it synthesizes a source. Michael and Lucifer; they never touched me, and they never touched Adam! Which—Adam, stop! It’s okay!”

Dean turns and finds himself face-to-face with his youngest brother, knife clutched in-hand, a wild spectrum of emotions reflected in sea-green eyes.

“Adam?” Dean’s eyes flash between the his two younger brothers. “I— _Adam?_ ”

Adam looks to Sam, who nods; Dean catches the gesture and isn’t sure what to do when Adam slowly reaches out a hand, visibly uncertain.

“…Dean,” he says, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. “You’re—you’re okay. You’re alive.” His voice is so disbelieving that Dean looks at Sam, who is trying valiantly to hide his expression of pain.

“Of course I’m alive,” he snaps. “How are _you_ alive? Shouldn’t your brain be turned to mush?”

Adam winces, and Dean sees Sam echo the gesture from the corner of his eye. “Not quite. Having a resident archangel or two ended up being kind of helpful, in the end. Michael owed me one.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Sam asks, lips twitching toward a smile.

“Shut it, bitch-boy,” Adam shoots back snippily. “What are you calling it, then?”

“Wha—?”

“Anyway,” Sam continues abruptly. “I’m fine. Adam’s fine. We’re all fine. The demons answer to me because, well. I mean, I’ve kind of got an ace in my corner when it comes to Lucifer—”

“Lucifer?” Dean asks, aghast.

“He’s not that bad,” Sam says, and Dean tries not to be struck dead on the spot by just how defensive Sam sounds. “As it turns out, he’s all for the _closing Hell forever_ plan.”

“So, what; Devil’s riding shotgun?”

“No,” Sam replies. “I, uh. There was a situation, and—Lucifer and I were merged once; it helps sustain him. Enochian blood rituals are serious stuff, you know? They’ve got a lot of them.” Sam touches his jaw with his fingertips, working the joint; Dean winces when he hears it crack. “Archangels can make their own vessels if they have the right stuff; blood of the true vessel’s on the list. I thought it was a better option.”

“So what you’re telling me is that _Satan_ is walking around in a Sam-clone?”

“No! Lucifer liked Nick; I dunno, says Nick was very _him._ Just think of it as an upgrade, except this one is on our side; so’s Michael.”

“What about all the dead angels?” Dean demands.

“Naomi’s followers,” Adam answers, and Dean feels a little sick.

“…Cas?” he asks eventually, his hands shaking; he lowers his gun and puts the safety on, ducking his head.

“Michael’s working on it,” Adam says. “Naomi keeps him close; uses him as leverage. Cas was on God’s list of favorites, just like you and Sam. She figures she can use him somehow to secure control for herself, but she’s never gone up against an archangel before, let alone two angry ones with a serious case of stir-crazy.”

“So Cas could still be alive?”

“Yes,” Sam answers, drawing Dean’s attention.

“Okay,” Dean says, voice rising. “Let’s assume I believe all this shit; doesn’t answer one question. What the hell is going on with your eyes?”

”Look,” Sam says, suddenly uneasy. “Just promise you’ll stay calm—”

“Sam, I swear to God,” Dean cuts in, glaring.

“He had to,” Adam says abruptly; Sam and Dean both look at him. “What Sam did; he had to. It was the only way he could stay alive.”

“What’s he talking about?” Dean demands.

“Demon blood,” Sam says quietly, and Dean pales. “Dean, I. I never wanted to.”

“Are you addicted again?”

“I—”

“Damn it, Sam!” Dean snarls. “Are we always gonna end up on this road?”

“I had to, Dean! It was the only way I could survive, and I promised you we were both gonna live!” Sam snaps. “There’s no food in Hell, Dean; no water. Everything is fire and sulfur and demons. See, Adam; he barely made it out alive, because what I did would never work for him. My body’s adjusted to demon blood, _made_ to be sustained on it. It’s addictive and it’s awful, but I can live on it, so I did. Stepping back into Hell—it woke up everything inside of me, made me _need_ it. I did what I had to do.”

Sam looks at Dean, pleading with his bile-yellow eyes. Dean feels sick.

“Well, you got back,” Dean acknowledges weakly. “Let’s say we get you back on detox, huh?”

Sam twitches slightly. “I… yeah.”

“He can’t!” Adam exclaims, looking at Sam in frustration. “He can’t yet. The demons take his command when he’s like this; he’s got enough demon in him, enough of Azazel, that they acknowledge him as King instead of Crowley. If Sam goes back to being pure human, Crowley takes control.”

“I thought you said Lucifer had your back?” Dean demands.

“He does,” Sam agrees. “He does, but only when he’s here. Now, he’s fighting Naomi back in Heaven; we don’t know when he and Michael will come back. I’m on my own until he does.”

“Then, screw it!” Dean says angrily. “It isn’t worth it!”

“It is!” Adam protests, scowling at Dean as he goes to help Sam to his feet. “Sam’s got control; the demons are contained here. If Crowley beat him out, it would be a free range for every demon, instead of just Hell in Detroit. _Millions_ of them, Dean. All of the corrupted human souls from all of time, all free to do what they want.”

Dean swallows. “But Sam—”

“I’ve got it under control,” Sam says quietly. “It isn’t easy, and I have to stay here. Dodging Hunters has made it about ten times as bad as it could be; we’re constantly on the move, trying to keep it random, but there’s only so many buildings left, and there’s nearly enough Hunters gathered to cover them all. If they kill me, Crowley still wins.”

Dean’s jaw clenches, his teeth click; he nods tightly and his eyes take on a hint of steel. “Well, okay then,” Dean says. “We’ll keep you out of sight until I can handle this.”

“Dean, no,” Sam argues. “There’s gonna be hundreds of Hunters here within the next few days; anyone in the country, and a ton from outside. There’s gonna be cops and FBI and the National Guard, all trying to get in and find out what’s going on.”

“And we need to keep them all out, or they’re all gonna get themselves killed,” Dean says. “Damn it—the angels couldn’t have put up a fence before they left the playground?”

“Didn’t have enough time,” Adam says, holding Sam up from one side as Dean gets to the other. “Naomi was on us _seconds_ after the Hellmouth opened. They ran her out, but had to chase her back before she could get reinforcements.”

“Great,” Dean huffs. “Sam, are you okay to walk?”

“No thanks to you,” Sam says, not nearly as angry as he should be.

“Good. Let’s get out of here. We need a game plan.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Adam.

“Agreed,” says Sam. “So, Detroit of 2014—how’s it compare?”

Dean gives Sam a look before his eyes drag over the ruined city. “A lot looks the same,” he says eventually before he looks back at his brothers. “But the company’s better.”

Dean Winchester is defeated by their matching grins.

 

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] 2014](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573898) by [maplewix (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/maplewix)




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